


slaughter your finest impulses

by but_seriously



Category: The Originals (TV), Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Femslash, mentions of gross sibling sexing up ie. rebekol, polyamourous relationships is the tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-16 13:44:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1349509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/but_seriously/pseuds/but_seriously
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She’d like to say she goes everywhere and does everything, but she’d already done it all before, with her brother. </p><p>[Post The Originals 1x16]</p>
            </blockquote>





	slaughter your finest impulses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lint](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lint/gifts).



> Edited version of the fic I posted on tumblr, original post [here](http://highgaarden.tumblr.com/post/79688825321/fic-slaughter-your-finest-impulses).

**20.**

She’s never seen New Orleans burn so bright. Maybe it’s the streetlamps that shine in and out of her eyes muddling her vision; she glances back one last time and it’s like the entire city is on fire.

There is a strange stirring in her chest as she leaves green signboards behind, bubbles of laughter bursting golden out of her lips with every mile she goes. the night sky is a dark, starless void but it doesn’t matter—she is the sun.

 

**19.**

It takes a while, but finally it is summer again. Lounging on a beach in Bali she idly thinks of how she spent her last one: hopping stranger’s beds with Matt and sipping cocktails as he rubbed lotion into her skin. It’s strange, she hasn’t thought of him in a while, not since that last, chaste kiss she’d pressed – or was it him? It was hard to tell when their faces always lingered so near – onto his lips right after she’d pulled him out of that safe.

She feels the spread of his palms on her back like a chemical burn.

 

**18.**

Rebekah’s been to Turkey before, but never like this. never a tourist. it had always been her tagging along on some murder mission of Nik who fancied himself some Nordic god in need of no war hammer because he has lightning thrumming in his veins.

She does a lot of walking, eats a lot of kebabs. She lets a scrawny little boy talk her into buying an overpriced cup of birdseed in the Sultanahmet district and spends the rest of the time chasing after pigeons. She cranes her neck to better admire the tiles in Hagia Sophia (but mostly to see if the cracks Nik had left there once were still there). She stops herself just in time. She’s not here for him.

 

**17.**

She’d like to say she goes everywhere and does everything, but she’d already done it all before, with her brother. She’d already done it all before with Elijah’s arm looped around her back, and the second time around does nothing to dissuade the images of her brother stooping down to pick lucky pennies for her, or him lifting her chin with his index finger beneath the Arc de Triomphe. 

He’d taken her away to see the world after her prolonged nap (as Nik called it) and she’d cataloged every last bit of it, storing it away for later when Kol might wake up one day, and she’d thread her fingers through his the way Elijah had done hers, and she’d point up at the arc but they’d see stars instead. Kol would yank her hair and she would shove his face into the mud. And Finn would be there too, and he would be smiling. 

Rebekah stands beneath the arc in her boots with the sharp heels and her huge floppy sunhat and lets a tear trickle down her cheek from behind her sunglasses. What she wouldn’t give to thread her fingers through theirs right now.

 

**16.**

She’s still standing there after the sun sets and the night shivers blue around her. Someone sidles up to her with a steaming cup of coffee.

Her blue eyes land on familiar mercury, and she shivers.

"Cold?" Stefan smiles like he’d told a really funny joke.

Well then.

 

**15.**

Rebekah drags him along the Seine, nattering his ear off, Turkey this and London that, and he pretends he doesn’t see that she’s starved for conversation, for a familiar face, for a warm hand in hers. She blows on the coffee he’d bought her but doesn’t drink it - she takes hers with cream and sugar (and blood), and Stefan always forgets.

"I never knew in the first place," he counters, and, yeah, she’ll let this one pass.

They walk on in a silence that shouldn’t be comfortable, considering… everything.

"There are a lot of things I don’t know about you," Stefan ventures after a while.

Her arm looped through his, she throws him a glance. “Like?”

"Like why you’re here."  _Alone_ , he doesn’t add, but she sees the way his eyebrows dip. Boy needs to keep them in check—they’re what always gave him away at poker games.

"Why are you?" she asks in lieu of an answer, and he chuckles.

"That’s another thing I’m still doing guesswork on. How you’ll react when I tell you."

They’ve reached end of the Seine. They start to walk back. “Tell me what?”

"Hey, Rebekah!" it’s a bird. it must be. no human could (or would, let’s be bloody honest) chirp like that.

She looks away from Stefan’s amused face into Caroline’s forcefully-beaming one and groans.

 

**14.**

They’re in a bar and of  _course_  it’s hovering just on the edge of dodgy because it’s Caroline who’d picked it out. Caroline sits there ogling everything and smiling at everyone and she wants to smack her hand and hiss,  _stop acting like a bourgeois bint._

Stefan’s off getting them drinks and his usual reprimanding hand isn’t nudging the side of her thigh, so she just might.

 

**13.**

And if there’s one thing Rebekah still hasn’t managed to wrap her mind around, it’s Caroline and Stefan. Because - bloody hell.

"He always did like his blondes," she remarks loftily as she watches Caroline remove the day’s grime and makeup off her face. "I’d find it mildly disturbing if not for the fact that he has a very skilled tongue."

"Okay, one? Ew. Two: you are so off base. And three?  _Ew_.” Caroline dabs at her face with a fluffy white towel, whipping it away to reveal a grimace directed at her. 

She smiles. Somehow the thought that Caroline and Stefan weren’t rolling in the sheets together comes as a relief. Or something. Still, it doesn’t stop her from lowering her voice just the slightest when Caroline nudges past her in the doorway, “Says the girl who’s missing out.”

"The very thought breaks me in two," Caroline says deadpan. she reaches for the room service menu, other hand already clicking away at the remote. "So what’ll it be tonight? _Maid in Manhattan_? _Sex and the City_?"

She wrinkles her nose. How predictable. “Or we could just watch the city, without the sex.”

Caroline blinks. “Excuse me?”

Rebekah heads for the window and yanks the curtains apart; the night yawns before them as the city lights leap and bound across the darkened skyline. New York glitters like jewels cupped in her hands.

Caroline ambles to where she is, drinking everything in. for the first time in forever she’s actually stopped talking long enough for Rebekah to appreciate her company.

 

**12.**

Rebekah threads her fingers through Stefan’s. 

Caroline tugs playfully at her hair.

The three of them walk around with arms looped around each other and it looks so strange, Stefan and Caroline and Rebekah travelling the world together hand in hand. She tries penning it down, putting it into words, but just the  _sound_  of it is ridiculous enough to make her laugh.

Caroline’s hand brushes against hers as they sort through the pictures, choosing the best ones. Caroline picks one of them balanced on the Juguyuan pass; Rebekah flicks it out of the pile and grumbles, “You only like that one because you look hot.”

Caroline snorts. “I do, and you hate it.”

“I’ll have you know—”

“You both look hot,” Stefan snaps from behind his book, weary from yet another hour of the same cycle of bitchiness. “So shut up and pick your pictures before the post office closes.”

Caroline mutters something inaudible and Rebekah rolls her eyes, but they put their heads together again and manage to come up with a sizeable pile. Rebekah ties it all together with a red ribbon,  _Love, your crazy Aunt Beks_ , and Caroline places her hand on her arm when the address she writes comes out shaky.

 

**11.**

“When are you going back?” Caroline’s smart enough not to say,  _When are you going home_? Because Rebekah – poor little orphan Rebekah, thousand-year-old original vampire Rebekah, whichever way you put it it is still a mouthful, it is still a reminder that she doesn’t  _have_  a home.

So she shrugs. “Lotion.”

Caroline’s fingers spread the suntan lotion across her back, smooth and soft where Matt’s hands had been clumsy and calloused. Caroline’s hands do not tear through her back like a chemical burn. Caroline’s hands soothe the worry knots out of her neck and snatch that bit of sadness out of her, the way they glide over her skin like notes in a symphony.

“I’m not allowed back,” Rebekah whispers.

“New Orleans sucks anyway. So muggy. It’s a wonder your hair’s still halfway decent.” Rebekah opens her mouth to retort, but Caroline leans down and presses a kiss on her bare shoulder, surprising her.

 

**10.**

They feel a little guilty about running off without Stefan, an occurrence that’s been happening more and more lately (to the surprise of everyone but him – he seemed too amused to even  _be_ surprised) so they drag him out dancing.

He keeps insisting he doesn’t dance—

“Liar!” Caroline squeals, “What about all those pictures of you from your glory days?”

Stefan shoots Rebekah a  _look_. Rebekah steadfastly inspects her manicure.

—but after being coerced into one too many jelly shots Rebekah and Caroline have him pinned between them on the dance floor, one of his hands draped around Rebekah’s waist and the other wrapped in Caroline’s as she pulls him deeper into the crowd.

She doesn’t know which screams louder – the people gyrating around her or the music pounding through the speakers. After a while she ceases to care, not with Stefan’s fisted in her hair and Caroline’s lips hovering about her neck.

Caroline’s looking at her so invitingly and Stefan’s hands are roaming literally everywhere that she really can’t be blamed for what happens next – Stefan’s wrist held to her mouth, her wrist to Caroline’s. Teeth. Broken veins. Blood, thick and heady filling her mouth and wetting her tongue and sliding down her throat. Her lips, redder than any lipstick Caroline might own. Stefan’s eyes, closed.

Caroline watches with blown pupils as she licks up Stefan’s arm, before biting down into hers, the blood swallowed with her moan.

She wakes up the next day with a memory of being kissed, but she can’t for the life of her remember whose lips it was.

 

**09.**

Was it Stefan? She’ll ask herself when Stefan’s hand lingers on the small of her back as he’s ushering her out the door.

Maybe Caroline? She thinks, remembering how soft the girl’s lips had been on her shoulder.

She sinks lower into the suds, hot water splashing up her knees, listening to the sound of Caroline and Stefan laughing from the other room. Muffled conversation, more wine poured, left over from dinner. Another quiet giggle, the low rumble of his laugh, and then – Rebekah strains her ears – nothing.

Cheeks flushed, she slides underwater with her eyes shut tight. She stays submerged for a very long time.

 

**08.**

It doesn’t even bother her, Stefan locking Caroline in a hug too long to be platonic, or when the train dings their next stop and the first person Caroline looks to is Stefan.

It doesn’t bother her when Stefan sneaks off onto the balcony after dinner for his a-pack-every-few-years-trust-me (which turned to a-cigarette-every-few-weeks-no-big-deal to where’s-my-goddamn-lighter-Caroline) and Caroline follows, citing fascination.

“He knows how to blow smoke rings,” Caroline insists.

So do I, Rebekah wants to say.

 

**07.**

“Is this a thing now?” Rebekah can’t resist when Caroline walks into the room smelling like honeyed fruit – the pale incense smoke that Stefan likes – and the new perfume she’d bought. she smells dirty, animatic, which doesn’t explain why Rebekah finds her mouth watering. She pushes it aside (and swallows it down), casually turning the pages of a book she’d swiped from Stefan’s bag. “You and him?”

Caroline just laughs and flumps down on the edge of the bed, the corner that faces the armchair Rebekah’s perched in. “Ew du Bitter. You wear it well.”

Rebekah sniffs. “Better than dirty cigarette smoke.”

Caroline stretches luxuriously, the jab rolling off the roll of her shoulders, and Rebekah looks down determinedly at the page which letters were starting to blur together. She didn’t even like Palahniuk to begin with. She says through closed teeth, “I told you before, he likes his blondes.”

“You sound almost worried, Bekah,” Caroline says. She’s smiling, but there’s a hint of – something – in her eyes. She leans forward and plucks the book out of her hands. “Besides, so do I.”

“Stefan’s not—” Rebekah’s scowl is wiped from her face when Caroline’s knees settle between her own, when her fingers toy with the edge of her dress.

“Finally got it, haven’t you?” Caroline says, but it comes out as a whisper.

“I’m sorry your foreplay leaves a lot to be desired,” Rebekah replies breathlessly, but the time for talking is long past. she grabs Caroline by the nape of her neck and pulls her close.

 

**06.**

Caroline knees are pressed between her legs, rolling a steady rhythm she can grind against, and her hands cup around her breast, but it’s not – it’s not enough, and she wants  _more_ , and—Caroline bites down on her lower lip and Rebekah absolutely writhes.

“You whine too much,” Caroline says, moving from her lips to her neck, teeth wet and sharp against her skin. But Caroline smiles when Rebekah whimpers, kisses her neck and grazes her teeth against her collarbone, but she never once bites. for a moment she is reminded of Kol, how he likes to play with his food, picking bone right out of flesh, how he always looks at her the way Caroline is looking at her now, right before he’d kissed her lips and devoured her tongue and –

 _No_ , she is not thinking of Kol right now.

Rebekah flips them over. “You love it.”

“That I do,” Caroline says agreeably, her smile turning into a wicked grin when her hand finally,  _finally_ snakes into her underwear. Above her, Rebekah’s eyes shut and her breath shudders as Caroline’s finger goes lower and lower and –  _yes_.

 

**05.**

She wakes up and Caroline’s gone, but Stefan’s in her place, holding out coffee that looks loaded with cream and sugar (and blood), and the day’s news. He’s brushing hair away from her face. She’s suddenly aware of how very naked she is, but he’s seen it all before, so she’s not bothered. Much.

Stefan tracks his eyes down her neck, smiles at the shroud of hair and blankets she’s become. “Cold?”

She laughs like it’s the funniest joke he’s ever told.

 

**04.**

I’m going home, Caroline announces ruefully.

Her bags are packed long before she’s booked her flight ticket, and even then she’s already studying for her new semester. “I’ve been gone a year,” she frets, frantically checking the answers only to come out scoring perfectly, but Rebekah doesn’t bat an eyelid, not anymore.

They take a cab to Charles de Gaulle and Stefan helps unload Caroline’s luggage, and she’s nattering a mile a minute as though starved for conversation. As she should be; it’s going to be a while until they see each other.

“What do you think of Peru?” Stefan had said at breakfast, and Caroline had looked so, so sorry.

Not sorry enough to stay, though.

 

**03.**

“Good bye,” Caroline says, before pulling her close, eyes on hers the entire time. Her lips find hers and it’s soft, hesitant, almost like a first kiss, and Rebekah wants to laugh at the irony.

Stefan locks her into a hug that couldn’t possibly be platonic, and maybe that’s just the way they are. Maybe that’s just the way they work, the three of them. sliding so easily in and out of it that you can no longer tell which way’s up, which way’s wrong, which way’s right.

But this – Stefan’s fingers threaded through hers and her arm looped around Caroline’s waist. it just works.

 

**02.**

The aeroplane that soars above them couldn’t be Caroline’s, it’s too soon, but Rebekah waves at it anyway.

They’d decided to walk back to the hotel. the Arc de Triomphe casts a long shadow over them, and Rebekah swallows. the last time she was here, Elijah had turned over all the coins he’d found on the ground. it doesn’t work that way, she’d wanted to say, but he’d just replied, so I’ll know luck always finds you, sister.

there’s a coin by her feet and it’s tails up, and Rebekah finds herself thinking of Caroline and the unbridled joy that hung around her; thinking of her niece who must be sleeping right now, dreaming things far from the life she could possibly imagine for her; thinking of Elijah and, despite herself, thinking of Nik. She bends down and flips it so it’s heads up – it catches the evening light and gleams a tarnished bronze.

 

**01.**

Stefan lifts her chin with his index finger beneath the Arc de Triomphe, and considering how horrible Caroline had been at the whole flirting thing, she’s the one who kisses him first.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> for Lint, who requested fic where rebekah travels the world and maybe runs into caroline and stefan somewhere. "oh, you're a thing now? well you always preferred blondes, didn't you?" also based on these prompts from icebluecyanide and theviolonist respectively.
> 
> 1\. We don't have to be / who we were before now. / I could be proud of my body. / You could be a vampire / or something. - stefan/caroline  
> 2\. hang hight, soft star, don't shine for swine / 'choose the highest bidder' was my answer / when they told me i was up for sale. - rebekah/caroline


End file.
